


Look At Me

by raeryn



Series: Looks [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Secret Identity, adrien knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raeryn/pseuds/raeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you do if you've discovered your best friend’s biggest secret but kept the fact that you knew from them?”<br/><br/><br/>He keeps giving her this <i>look</i>, one that told Marinette that he knew something, that she was out of the loop on something. One that she could never decipher, no matter how hard she tried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look At Me

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this, because I did think of scenes from Adrien and Alya's perspective. But for now, it's only a oneshot.  
> Update: I wrote a second part, from Adrien's point of view, called _Seeing Me_. It's the second part of this series.

She didn’t know what to think about this friendship with Adrien.

Marinette was pretty sure it began when they were 16 and had coincidentally met at one of the cafes outside of school. She had just finished defeating an akuma and ducked into one of the alleys squished between shops to transform back. When Marinette walked out, she met head-to-toe with Adrien Agreste.

Obviously, Marinette blushed massively and managed to stammer out a “A-A-Adrien!” before he smiled and began conversing with her. Apparently he had just been at a photoshoot and was planning on going home before the akuma fight had broken out. He had hidden in the cafe for shelter. Marinette nodded, saying she did similar but didn’t elaborate. Smaller lies were simpler, after all.

Then from there on, they kept on meeting. Coincidentally.

He was planning on buying a book from the local bookstore. He was thinking of trying organic pineapples sold at a farmer’s market. He was checking out the flowers sold at the front of a magazine stand. “For a friend” he had said and she never really thought twice about _why_ he was shopping for _bouquets_ at a _magazine stand._

She never really questioned it, because it was none of her business. To say she wasn't curious was a lie but Marinette respected Adrien enough not to intrude on his privacy.

But it kept coming.

They started to talk to each other and hang out after akuma attacks. It didn't happen all the time, but often enough for Marinette to wonder if it was really just coincidences.

“It's not like he's stalking me,” Marinette told Tikki one day, laughing. Her kwami replied with a sliver of a smile.

They’ve become close friends, Marinette knows. Somewhere in between, her stuttering problem had become minor, but sometimes Adrien would lean forward, stare at her in the eyes, and she would feel a wave of heat coming on. But other than that, she’s got it relatively under control.

But she still doesn’t know him well enough. There are moments where Marinette can’t understand and she wants to ask but just by the look on his face, Marinette knows she shouldn’t ask. Adrien would tell her when he’s ready.

That doesn’t stop their friendship. Adrien and her would talk together afterschool, in between classes, at the school library when they decided to work on homework together on a day he luckily didn’t have a photoshoot. Alya always squealed—with her, of course—when Adrien invited her to such and gladly waved goodbye so she could leave her friends to their own devices.

And...yeah. Somewhere along that road, they became friends and were often together. He waited for her after school. She waited for him after a photo shoot. She invited him to her home. Her parents love him there and he’s a great help at the bakery. (That’s actually a lie—Adrien is absolutely horrid at baking. But he does work well at the cashier; friendly and plastering smile that grabs plenty of customers. And she has to admit, she does love seeing him in a black t-shirt and an apron with loads of flour on it. It’s endearing.)

And to what’s more is Chat—her _partner,_ the one she trusts with her life in the face of evil—makes it a habit to visit her often. _Her_ , not Ladybug, not the superhero, but her civilian self, the normal one, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He didn’t start visiting her immediately after the Evillustrator incident (which, now that she looks back on it, would’ve made more sense) but just suddenly out of nowhere.

She was just sitting at her desk one day, trying to ignore this absurd sound she kept hearing. Finally, it became louder and Tikki pointed out she heard it too. Marinette managed to find the source of the sound and when she opened the trapdoor, she heard it wood smack into someone and a resounding “ _OW!”_  above her.

“Chat Noir?” she had called out accusingly. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t visit a princess?”

“No, you can’t,” Marinette had replied curtly. It’s been awhile since Chat had met Marinette; she’s surprised he even remembers her.

Chat laughed in reply and squatted near the entrance of the trap door. He smiled at her; a small, kind one, one that made her pause. “Can I come in?” he asked politely.

She reluctantly complied, which apparently meant “yes, you can come visit me _anytime,_ not just tonight” in dorky kitty terms.

In a way, now that Marinette thinks about it, she had gotten two surprising friendships—two that she never thought would actually happen. (Well, one of them she had _dreamed,_ but if she was being realistic, no. The other one she had hoped wouldn’t ever happen. She’s starting to think she should take back her words.)

Chat is hilarious, she has to admit, though she would never in a million years do so in front of him. If he found out she actually enjoyed his dumb puns, he would _never stop,_ which—even if funny—would be _insanely_ annoying.

He doesn’t flirt with her much, which was what Marinette expected. After all, he always made such comments with Ladybug and with her, when they first met. But as time went on and seasons passed, Chat only visited her when he had free time (as he claimed) and merely conversed with her.

She got to know him better and vice versa. Sometimes, Marinette would find herself staring at her partner, studying the bridge of his nose, the color of his eyes and wonder why it brought familiarity to her. It was on the tip of her tongue, she knew, but no matter how often Marinette thought about it, she couldn’t figure it out.

She waved it away; Chat Noir respected her enough not to pester her with her secret identity. She should do the same. What was Marinette doing, trying to figure out who Chat Noir was? That’s just rude. Even if Chat didn’t tell her, Marinette shouldn’t take the liberty of solving it herself.

Still, sometimes that killed her.

Sometimes Chat would be in her room and they would lounge together on her sofa. Sometimes she would talk about school and he would nod, replying that he faced similar problems. Sometimes she would give him a questioning look and exasperated smile like “really, you deal with an attractive classmate sitting near you and an annoying girl who also sits near you?” and Chat would give her this _look_ and smile quietly. “Yes” is all Chat would say, which is incredibly _unlike_ him but Marinette never asked about it. She knew it had to do with his secret identity and she promised herself she wouldn’t pry.

That look, that look. Marinette saw it when she showed him her fabrics, her creations. Marinette saw it when she handed him the failed practices of her stitched signature, especially on a light blue cloth. Marinette saw it when she turned on the lights for the first time and it illuminated Adrien’s face, plastered on the walls of her room. Marinette saw it even as she ran about her room, blushing and stammering and making foolish excuses for her crush.

He would always bid her goodnight before he left, tapping her cheek and giving her the same look that always told her to ask, just _ask,_ but she never did.

If Marinette was really being honest with herself, she would, at times, see the same look just briefly flicker across Adrien Agreste’s face. One startling memory was the time when she had invited him to go up to her room. He was excited and Marinette had laughed because he had been the bakery so many times and they worked together on projects and homework in the living room, he hadn’t been to her room. It’s not like she didn’t want him to go in there but...yeah, she didn’t want him to go in there. His face was _on_ her walls, for goodness sakes! But Chat had seen the posters a couple nights before and in the end, she had taken off the posters because the humiliation was unbearable.

Marinette had been talking animatedly about something that she can’t quite remember when they walked in and _something_ had flickered across Adrien’s face.

“Your room,” he had said.

Marinette looked questionably. “What about it?”

“Your walls...are bare.” It was a strange comment, Marinette thought, but she brushed it away.

“Yeah. Putting up posters is kind of a lot of work and they always fall down at the end. I gave up on that.”

“You did?”

Marinette had stared at him here. His eyes reflected _something_ but before she could really decipher it, he had turned away.

 

 

 

Then one day, while Marinette was lying on her bed, relaxing, with Tikki next to her, she shot up so fast she got a whiplash. “What, what, what?” Tikki had asked.

“I’m in love with Adrien Agreste _and_ Chat Noir,” she announced, voice stunned. Tikki smiled and Marinette stared at her. “You knew.”

“Of course,” her kwami replied, just a bit smug. Marinette narrowed her eyes. “There’s only so many shoves and ‘annoyed’ looks you can give Chat Noir without making it plainly obvious.”

“‘Plainly obvious’—?” Marinette gasped. “You don’t think _Chat Noir_ knows, do you?” Or worse, _Adrien._ If Tikki said she was “obvious” with Chat Noir and she hadn’t even _known_ she liked him, Adrien would _definitely_ know.

“I don’t know, but I’m saying, you aren’t _super_ discreet. Chat Noir may know, but he also may just be incredibly oblivious.”

Marinette had hoped for the latter.

 

 

 

Since that conversation with Tikki, Marinette was constantly aware of Chat. The way he would grin widely at her when he picked up one of her unfinished creations. The face he made when he was in deep thought, correcting and making adjustments to her design ideas. The look of pleasure when he devoured one of her macarons.

Even more than Chat, she’s wary of Adrien too. If she was before, that was nothing.

When he came over, she would stare at him, studying his figure, seeing if there was anything to give him away.

Then Adrien would turn back to her, smile alight and Marinette would swivel her head, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring, so fast that she thought her head would come off.

Usually Adrien had turned after asking a question and Marinette would stammer out a “sorry, I wasn’t listening”, trying to stifle her rapid heartbeat.

Adrien, being Adrien, would just smile again and repeat his answer. But there’s this look in his eyes—a new look—and she can’t figure that one out either.

But like before, it’s gone before she can fully study it.

 

 

 

She was sure he— _they,_ Marinette corrects herself. Christ, what was going on?—knew she was staring. At this point, she didn’t care anymore. Marinette was friends with them; staring was okay, right? It’s not like there was some _rule_ that told her she couldn't watch her friends.

At least, that’s what Marinette is trying to reason to herself as she made busy with her fingers, threading the needle in and out.

“You know I think my father might like you.”

Marinette stabbed herself with the needle.

She spun in her chair and looks over at Adrien, who’s lounging in her sofa, reading one of her magazines. He had asked if he could read it while Marinette worked.

“ _What?”_ she screeched. “Gabriel Agreste, _the_ Gabriel Agreste, who's so estranged he doesn't know his own son hates fashion, likes _me._ ”

Adrien made a face. “I don’t _hate_ fashion.”

“You certainly don’t like it.”

“I don’t like _modeling_ for hundreds of fashion companies and needing to attend practically every fashion event out there,” her best friend corrected. “But I do like it.”

Marinette snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.” She turned back to her work, picking up the needle. The tip had poked through skin, but it quickly stopped, so Marinette didn’t bother getting a bandage.

“I’m reading a fashion magazine!” Adrien protested, holding up the one she lent to him earlier.

“That’s only because I’ve marked that copy and you’re reading my annotations.”

He frowned, but Marinette knew she had him there.

“Okay, then I like watching you, and your pieces.” Marinette stiffened because she could’ve sworn Adrien paused at the “and”. Marinette glanced at the boy, hoping to ready his expression. He walked over to her at her table.

Adrien smiled faintly as he pointed to the clutter of fabrics she laid out on the table. “I like seeing you make things. I like hearing about your creations.” Adrien locked eyes with her then, and his voice becomes softer. _I like you,_ Marinette pictured him saying. “I like fashion,” he said instead.

Marinette broke the contact first, refocusing her attention on her work in progress. “Yeah,” she said breathily, hands tremoring a little as she attempts to pick up the needle again. “Okay. Yeah.”

 

(She didn’t forget his father's comment, however. Marinette squealed for what felt like _hours_ to Adrien, who only said it was expected, given her talent.)

 

 

 

Sometimes she wish Chat Noir had never visited Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It would make a lot of this easier for her.

She doesn’t even know what to think anymore. Does she like the way Adrien smiles at her and the face he makes when he’s in deep thought? Or is she entranced by the way Chat throws smirks at her and pride he wears when he makes a particularly good pun and joke?

"Princess,” Chat would say to her, leaning on the edge of her trap door before he was to leave for the night. “It was nice seeing you.”

Marinette smiled gingerly back, always wondering why Chat visited her. She doesn’t think she’s intriguing enough to bring back one of the superheroes of Paris, especially when Chat made it clear that he was interested in his partner.

“Me too, Chat,” she murmured.             

He’s wearing that look again.

Marinette inhaled. “Chat,” she said. Her partner lifted his head. “Chat, I—”

She’s interrupted by the beeping of his ring and Marinette sighed. _Of course._

Chat cupped her face. “I’m sorry, m’lady, but it seems I must leave if I want to make it home on time.”

Marinette nodded, looking at her balcony floor instead of his face. “Yeah,” is all she says. “I know.”

“Can I come back tomorrow?”

“You’re always welcome,” she reminded. “I have school though, so don’t stay long, kitty. Who knows how much physics homework I’ll have?”

“I’m sure,” Chat Noir said. When Marinette peered at him, she’s almost surprised at the soft expression. It wasn’t not his look, but it’s a familiar look, one she can’t quite place.

He turned away before she could fully read it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow," he says vaguely. 

 

She didn't see Chat Noir the next day.

 

  

 

“Two boys, Tikki. _Two_ ,” Marinette told her kwami one day as they’re lying on her bed. Marinette placed her hand over her eyes and sighs. Liking Adrien Agreste was hard enough; now she had to like the superhero of Paris, too? It was like she couldn’t catch a break.

“Tikki, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I just liked one boy?” Marinette rolled over to her stomach and folded her hands under her chin. “It would be a lot simpler.”

Her kwami stared back at her with her wide, purple eyes. “I’m not sure. I mean, sure, it’ll be easier for your heart, but isn’t that like missing out on something?”

“I don’t want to be greedy.” Marinette sighed again, closing her eyes. She thought about Chat, she thought about Adrien.

With Adrien, she’s glad she can finally be normal around him. Not stuttery or mortifying. She can go on study session, have conversations...That was great. But he’s still Adrien Agreste and there’s still that part of him that intimidates her, just a little, that makes her wonder if it would be easier if she just never met him. If they just stayed as classmates.

 

 

 

She and Adrien were in the kitchen, baking a pie. (Strictly speaking, it was some Chinese pastry. Her mother had taught her the trade secret long ago, and Adrien demanded to learn something that was special to Marinette). Her parents are out at some bakery convention—Marinette wondered how that even exists—for the day so Adrien asked if he could come over. (Which, of course, of course, _of course_ he could.)

“No, the custard also goes in the oven,” Marinette corrected. “The crust gets hardened in the refrigerator.”

Adrien frowned. “And it’s not hard?”

She laughed. “I think that’s the goal.”

He shook his head, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. “I mean, it doesn’t get, I don’t know, _too_ hard? Like stone.”

“Like stone?” Marinette raised an eyebrow. She walked over to the sink to place the used measuring utensils in the sink. “No, it won’t, but I’m sure it’ll still taste as good.”

“ _I’ll_ be the judge of that,” the boy said, finishing up the mixing of the custard. He places the bowl down between he and Marinette, who took a plastic spoon from one of the drawers and dips it in.

“No,” she said, bringing the spoon to her mouth. “Me.” She tasted it and shuddered.

The effect was immediate. Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes turned sad, and his hands were at the metal bowl faster than she can blink, and it was all Marinette can do to keep it within her grasp. “Wha-what’s wrong with it? I’m pretty sure I made it well this time!” Adrien gave up on taking the bowl from her and rushed to the cookbook, rereading the directions.

“Adrien,” she called, but he didn't turn. “Adrien!” Marinette tried repeating.

She walked up to him with the same spoon and when she placed her hand at his head, he turned with words at his mouth and judging by his expression, he was ready to complain about the custard.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't get to, because the spoon was in his mouth and Adrien ate the sweets he made. (Unfinished sweets, partial sweets, that was.)

When the boy's done, Marinette took out the spoon and smiled at him, gave him a look, expectant.

Adrien licked his lips, an action that maade Marinette’s heart pound. He boy returned her look.

“You shuddered _,_ ” he said, betrayal marked all over his face. “You _shuddered,_ and this tastes delicious!”

“I know,” Marinette agreed and when Adrien looked at her, aghast, she broke out laughing. “I know. I just wanted to tease you.”

“Oh, that’s just brutal, m'lady,” he responded, grabbing the bowl from her. In that second, she had froze and Adrien successively stole the custard from her. Marinette unstiffened however, glaring at the boy as he happily pours the custard into the pan.

“Also, I can’t believe you fed me.” Marinette’s cheeks blossomed, heat warming her entire body. She’s about to apologize for breaking boundaries when Adrien set down the now empty bowl. He placed a hand at his hips, his face in mock disappointment. “You fed me _raw_ custard. That is gross.”

“Please,” Marinette replied, taking the bowl. She strode over to the sink and filled it with tap water. “It’s just a bit raw eggs. You didn’t even eat that much!”

“I could get salmonella.”

“Poor baby,” she joked, a teasing smile playing across her lips.

Adrien took a napkin in a poor attempt to dab any leftover custard out of his mouth and tongue. But he’s already swallowed what tiny amount Marinette fed, so Adrien’s really just wasting a napkin. 

“Cruel,” he repeated, shaking his head. Marinette threw a pointed look, but she’s grinning. Adrien was still wearing his disappointed face, so in an attempt to wipe it away, Marinette flicked her dough covered fingers.

Adrien spluttered. He demanded a new change of shirt.

 

 

 

 

They sat in the living room as the pie baked. Marinette suggested watching a movie and Adrien shrugged. She put on one of her favorites and took a spot on the couch. He had sat next to her, so close that their knees were touching. Marinette was sure she would explode, but fortunately, she didn’t.

“How long would it take?” he asked, five minutes into the movie.

Marinette laughed. “The same amount of time you put on the timer.” She gave him a look. “Be patient, okay? It’s all part of being a baker.”

“I’m pretty sure patience is needed in much more than just the art of flour, sugar, and eggs, but I’m working on it.”

She chuckled again and when Marinette managed to calm the laughter, she found Adrien staring at her. She immediately blushed and shifts away. Marinette managed to stutter out a “do you like subtitles? They’re for the hearing impaired but sometimes I really can’t understand what they’re saying” and clicked the remote. It’s a miracle that it didn't fall out of her hand from the way she’s shaking.

Adrien mumbled at a “sure” before sinking back in the couch, leaning a little towards her. She didn't sit back, because Marinette knew if she does, more than just their shoulders will touch.

Marinette didn't think her heart is ready for that, no matter how much she wanted it.

“I really like the scene after this one,” Marinette blurted. She saw Adrien nod in the corner of her eye, his attention fully on the movie. Her heart warmed. He always paid attention to things she found fascinating, even when Marinette thought what she was talking about was absolutely boring.

Marinette continued to stare at him. She didn't care if he noticed. He deservds to be stared at. Adrien Agreste was amazing and she wasn’t for one second regretful that she met him.

How could she ever think about giving up on liking him?

 

 

 

Chat Noir didn't make it easier for her.

Then again, he never made _anything_ easy.

(Akuma fights _may_ be an exception, but even then, Marinette thinks his stupid puns may just make it ten times worse.)

“I don’t think you’re a bother, Marinette,” he told her one day.

Marinette’s puzzled. She didn't think she said anything that might indicate she thought that.

As if reading her mind, Chat replied, “You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to.” He stepped closer to her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “You’re wonderful, you know?”

Marinette flushed and tore her gaze away. “I’m not.”

Chat Noir gestured to her room, to the mannequin, to the discarded creation bin, to her sketchbook. “You’re telling me this—this room, where most of the things in it are from your _head,_ your imagination—isn’t wonderful?"

Marinette glowed with pride. She didn't want to say it wasn't—because it’s not. She took delight in the things she makes. “Okay,” she conceded. “I see your point.” Marinette shifted her head so Chat’s hand wasn't at her face anymore. “I’m still not was wonderful as you think.”

“Doubtful,” he said, snorting a little. “Again.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “What should we visit this time?” she asked sarcastically, indulging him.

“Your heart.” He answered her with a such a serious tone that it kind of shocked her. Chat placed a finger in the area under her collarbone, so he’s not being intrusive. “That kindness, the unwillingness to leave anyone alone.”

“I just don’t like seeing someone helpless.”

Chat Noir met her answer with a look. It said “I told you so” but also something else. “I know” Marinette thought it says, but she’s not sure. It’s that look again.

He pated her the crown of her head.

“Me neither,” he said.

 

(He's just as vague as ever.)

 

 

 

 

The answer to the wretched look arrives on a rainy day.

It isn’t pouring hard, but it’s strong enough for her to cancel going to the library for the study session. Alya agrees, and their friends decide to finish homework at home, but Adrien stops and gives her a call.

“I’m good at physics and you need the help,” he says, displaying a look that told her he was entirely too pleased with that fact. “I think I can handle a little shower before I get home.”

Her parents aren’t home again today. Marinette thinks she should stop inviting Adrien over at times like these because if she keeps doing it, she’s sure she’d be a “bad girl”.

(Then again, Chat Noir does visit her often. Not weekly or anything, but often enough for her to know that it’s not exactly the best thing. If she’s aiming to be a good daughter, anyways.)

Marinette denies his request to learn how to make macarons. It’s after the holiday season, so they don't have as much time to bake or anything like that, especially as something as complicated as macarons. Adrien is affronted when she tells him that, but despite her friend’s offended reaction, she giggles and boops him on his nose.

“You have a personal chef,” she says. “You don’t need to know how to bake.”

“I do if I want to stay close to the daughter of two bakers.” Which isn't exactly true, but Marinette plays along. Adrien smiles brightly at her and she blushes, eyes wide. As if oblivious, Adrien raises an eyebrow. “We _are_ friends, right?”

“Yeah! O-of course!” Marinette answers, heart still beating erratically. They were friends. _Friends_ , she reminds herself.

And while she’s happy that she can be so close to Adrien, she can’t help but feel greedy.

Marinette tries not to look at him for the next half hour or so, until Adrien finishes their physics homework first, sets down the pencil and sighs. She’s sitting on the ground in the middle of her living room and Adrien’s on the couch a couple seats next to her, both working on the small coffee table. Marinette had not wanted the couch because she thought the table was too far for her liking and Adrien had replied by teasing her short arms.

He leans back into the couch behind them, leaning his head on the soft seat and closes his eyes. Adrien looks like he’s in a complete state of content, Marinette decides. When he opens one eye and peeks down at her, Marinette burns and shifts on her spot on the cough, redirecting her attention to the great subject of physics.

“Hey, Marinette,” he says, calling to her softly.

She looks up. “Y-yes?” Is he going to call her out for staring? It wouldn’t be the first time he caught her, but it would be the first time he’s actually said something.

“What do you do if you've discovered your best friend’s biggest secret but kept the fact that you knew from them?”

Marinette halts. She didn't expect that at all. She instantly thinks about her secret identity. “Depends on who, I think. But my _best friend…_ ” Marinette thinks about her own situation. If Alya ever found out...she knew the blogger wouldn't post about it, but what would her reaction be? She's been Ladybug all along. Besides, there was her protection. If Alya knew this whole time? Marinette would be glad it didn't change their relationship, but it would've helped her to known. Maybe not immediately after Alya figured it out, but later. It would've been a lot easier to not need to run around, searching for a place to hide when she was in the vicinity.

“I think I would be okay with. Because if they knew and I didn't, it didn't change our relationship, right? But I guess I would still want them to tell me.”

Adrien is quiet. “Adrien?” she asks tentatively. Marinette moves to gets up and sits next to him, concerned. She places a hand in his shoulder.

He kind of flinches, and Marinette wrenches her hand away. But looking upon her face, Adrien smiles kindly. “You see, I have this problem. I kind of figured out one of my best friend’s secret, one she's been adamant on keeping from me. I'm not sure if I should tell her.”

 _Chloe?_ is Marinette first guess but after being friends with him for so long, she knows that Adrien’s relationship with her isn't as tight as it seems. _Who else, then?_

He's still looking at her, waiting for her answer. Marinette clears her throat, a little embarrassed her mind has drifted off topic. “I think you should. You're bound to tell her someday right? She might get angrier is you knew for even longer and didn't mention it.”

“You're right." Adrien nods. “I should. I'll do it right now.”

“Right now?” Marinette asks questionly. Was he going to send a text?

“Marinette, I, uh,” Adrien says while scratching the back of his neck. Marinette notices a faint blush growing at his cheeks and the redness of his ears. _Adorable,_ she thinks before mentally wiping the thought away. Adrien’s trying to tell her something serious.

With a startle, Marinette realizes _she's_ the one he's talking about. She's a little giddy at the thought that he really _does_ consider her as his best friend but then stops at a more important one. _My_ biggest _secret_?

Oh no.

“I...uh, I've known for a while now that…” Adrien peers down, biting his lower lip. He looks absolutely terrified.

She knows the feeling.

“Adrien, you can't—”

“I know about your crush!” he blurts. Marinettes mind comes to a screeching halt.

Oh lord, _what?_

Her heart thumps uncontrollably. _It could be worse_ , she thinks helplessly.

“I’m sorry?” she asks, hoping she could play it cool. _Don’t make it seem like it’s a big deal._ _Just breathe_. “W-wha-w-what are you talking about?” _Very cool,_ Marinette thinks sarcastically.

Instead of looking...like a person _should_ look after revealing a secret, Adrien’s talking to himself. Weakly—not softly because Adrien’s eyebrows are pinched and he’s wearing a deep frown.

Adrien looks positively angry with himself, what with the quiet mutterings and all. “That’s not—” she catches amongst the words he’s saying under his breath. Finally, her friend sighs and redirects his attention to her, eyes guilty. “Um…” he begins, “yeah.”

Her living room is awkwardly silent for a couple of beats. Marinette sits there, fidgeting and unsure of what to do. Adrien hasn’t clarified at all! Does he know that she’s in love with _him_? _Or maybe Chat Noir,_ Marinette thinks furiously, annoyed with her situation, yet again.

Adrien sighs again and places a hand at her shoulder. Marinette decides that the fact she hasn’t combusted yet or jerked at his touch is an achievement that must be awarded. “Yes, Marinette, I know. About you…” he blushes again, but his pinched eyebrows indicate that he’s also upset. Marinette briefly wonders what he was saying to himself earlier. “...and me.”

Marinette grows hot. _So he does know._ God, what was she supposed to do? _So you’re having a conversation with your best friend and he tells you he knows you’re in love with him. Should you just sit there and pretend it didn’t happen or kiss him because there’s nothing to lose?_

Except this friendship. Marinette loves being friends with Adrien; it’s one of the things she was afraid of losing if she ever confessed. Though it doesn’t seem like that confession is ever going to happen now.

“How did you find out?” she whispers quietly after what seemed like a million years. Marinette stares down at her lap, refusing to turn.

Adrien chuckles a bit, but it’s short and hollow. “Just...somewhere along the road.” She nods. “And...you’re not exactly subtle.”

Marinette swivels her head towards him, eyes wide. The expression Adrien wears is far too happy compared to the previous guilty face and voice he had.

“The looks, the stares. Oh, come on, Marinette, I’m not _blind._ ”

Marinette groans and grabs one of the pillows on her couch to hide her face in it. She cannot believe how mortifying this situation is.

“Marinette.” A hand gingerly touches her wrist. “Marinette.”

“What,” she says, muffled by her pillow. “Adrien, don’t talk to me, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Okay, okay,” he agrees, voice cheerful. Marinette peers at him over the pillow. His eyes are too bright, she thinks. He’s extremely delighted. “Okay,” he repeats again, “I won’t talk.”

“You’re talking right now,” she mutters, putting her face back in the pillow.

“Marinette,” he whispers, and this time, it’s so full of emotion that she’s almost forced to look up. When she does, Adrien’s face is centimeters from her own. Marinette breathes in sharply, eyes big; she hadn’t expected him to be so close.

“Marinette,” he says again, voice soft as his breath ghosts over her lips. “Me too.”

Then he kisses her and while she wishes she can say she was calm about the entire situation and didn’t burn up or anything, she can’t. The boy was driving her _insane._

Marinette kind of sits there for a couple of seconds, stunned, as Adrien continues to kiss her. He places a hand at her hip and the other at her cheek and his touch sends a million jolts down her body.

She gasps, which only causes him to press harder. Marinette slowly lets her mind recover from its initial shock, before placing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Adrien lets her, moving forward and her back softly hits one of arm rests of her couch. He keeps leaning towards her, until she’s practically lying on the couch with him on top of her.

 _I’m definitely a not a good girl,_ Marinette thinks, as she runs her hands through Adrien’s hair. _There’s no more denying it because I’m making out with Adrien Agreste on the family couch while my parents are not home._

When Adrien parts from her, she tugs at his hair to press his lips to hers again. She feels him grin against her lips and Marinette shifts her hands until they’re at his jaw line. She slants her head a bit and feels Adrien sink deeper into the couch with her.

This time, when she breaks away, Marinette stares into his green eyes, eyes that are reflecting exactly how she feels, and smiles.

He grins widely in reply and kisses her again, soft and short. Marinette giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck. He moves her from lying on the couch until his arms are around her waist.

“Marinette,” he whispers.

She releases him a little, just enough so she can look at his eyes. Adrien stares deeply at her, and this time, she has enough time to read his expression.

There’s that _look_ , and it really dawns on her that she can’t be mistaken this time—it’s Chat’s look.

“You know that secret I mentioned earlier?” he breathes.

“What?” she asks. Her thoughts are muddled; the boy should know better than to intimate a conversation after kissing her senseless.

“The secret. It's, uh, actually not the one I was planning on talking about.”

Marinette widens her eyes. He knew _more?_

“A while ago you talked about a friend of yours, and you mentioned something specific about her and then the next day I noticed that about Alya...and soon enough, I began figuring it out…”

“Figuring _what_ out?”

“You won't be mad, my lady?”

“No, I won't, just—”

Marinette freezes. Slowly, she glanced up to read his expression. That look, that pesky, pesky look. It's still there but faint. Fading away, because now she knew.

“C-Chat?” she whispers, a fire burning within her.

“Hello, Princess,” he replies, voice just as soft. His expression is tender and Marinette brings a hand forward to touch his cheek.

Then she squeezes it.

“Ow!” he yelps as Marinette drags her stupid cat towards her until they’re locking eyes.

“How long were you going to keep this from me?” she asks, eyes narrowed. "How long _have_ you kept this from me?"

“Not very long—”

“So _how_ long?” Marinette brings her face closer to his, glaring at her partner.

“Maybe a year, maybe more?”

“A _year?”_ she screeches. “This whole time?”

“Ow, Marinette, my cheek!”

“Don't worry, your model face is perfectly fine,” she growls. Marinette lets go of him, and turns away. She crosses her arms. “I can't believe you.”

The superhero sees Adrien rub his cheek, face in mock pain. “I'm sorry,” he says and Marinette huffs. She can hear him chuckle a little at that. “I am.” Adrien places a hand at her shoulder and she jerks away from him. “Marinette,” Adrien says again, voice shocked. _Serves you right,_ Marinette thinks angrily.

After a couple seconds, she thinks it’s been long enough and her kitty has gotten enough torture. She turns back to him, adjusting her legs so it’s comfortable. One is folded on the couch and the other hangs on the side. Marinette puts her hands on the couch, between her legs. “So, were you planning on telling me?”

“Kind of.” Adrien scratches his ears, looking away. “I hadn’t exactly expected it to go this way.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “How did you expect it?”

“Frankly, before you kissed me.” Marinette immediately blushes, but Adrien only laughs. “I didn’t plan on talking about the crush. I mean I did, but identity first.”

“But you knew. About both,” she murmurs quietly, still horrified. Adrien knew her a lot better than she thought.

“Well…” he begins, a little sheepish, “yeah.”

“God,” Marinette says, covering her face. “ _God,_ Adrien, I can’t believe you knew _this whole time_ and you just—you just let me waddle around, oblivious!”

“‘Waddle’?” he repeats. Marinette glares at his innocent face.

“Yes, waddle!” she replies, furious. “You know how much easier my life would be if I knew that you knew?”

Adrien raises and eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to keep it a secret.”

“I do!” Marinette says, contradictingly. Oh, she is so mad with him. “I had to run around, scrambling after a fight to make sure I didn’t transform or something, walk home _who knows_ how many times because I didn’t have enough time to make it all the way home as Ladybug, and Adrien, _I don’t like walking home in the freezing rain!”_

Her kitty has the actual audacity to _grin_ at her.

She was going to kill him.

“You still like me.”

Yeah, she was going to kill him.

“I can’t believe this,” she mutters. Adrien laughs and wraps his arms around her waist, tentatively touching her again. She lets him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “God, I hate you.”

“On the contrary, my dear lady,” he corrects and Marinette groans, clutching his shirt and pressing harder into his neck, as if she could just disappear into it. Adrien chuckles and Marinette knows from experience he’s up to something. She mentally steels herself, already frowning. “You liked me _a lot_ , huh?” There was something about his voice that said he knew more than he was telling.

Marinette flushes to end of her roots.

“Wha—”

Adrien’s smiling again, but he’s so _smug._ If he doesn’t wipe that off his face, Marinette thinks she’s going to burst.

“I didn’t—I mean I _did,_ but I didn’t like you _that_ much!” Marinette fixes her stare on him again and says, as her only line of defense, “It’s not like you weren’t in love with Ladybug or whatever.”

Adrien beams, open teeth and everything, ends of his mouth stretched wide. “Yeah, I am,” he says, touching her face and Marinette is sure she’s _melting._

“But, come on. You liked me. A _lot_. You had _posters of me—”_

“ _What?”_ Marinette yelps, jerking away. She remembers—Chat saw those before she took them off and _oh_ , she was going to _kill him—_ “I took those off!”

“You still have them,” he adds, smiling cheekily. “And you know, keeping them in your drawer near where your sewing stuff isn’t a really good idea, considering how you always show those to me. I saw them once—”

“You _what?_ ” Adrien flinches, but has the courage to actually _grin_ at her. “You looked through my stuff?” Marinette is so flustered that she stands up, storming away from him. He gets up from the couch, following her. “I can’t believe you. You had no right!”

“Like how you had no right to steal my phone?”

Marinette whirls around.

He’s holding up the said object. And he’s still smug. Adrien stares at his phone, waving it around. “Alya told me. Granted, it was only after a long conversation about my feelings and my ‘courting ideas’ did she admit it but still.” He looks back at her. “You _stole_ my phone to delete a voicemail?”

“It was an embarrassing voicemail!” she defends, throwing her hands in the air. Marinette stomps towards him and she’s satisfied with the flicker of fear in his eyes. “I can’t believe Alya. The traitor!”

“Now don’t blame her.” Adrien waves a hand, as if this mortifying event was just a blip he can wave away. “She wouldn’t have told me; ‘sister code’ and what not. But she was well fed up with the ‘unresolved sexual tension’ that we supposedly have so she thought that would give me a push. I told l her I was planning on confessing this weekend.”

He _planned_ this! Oh god, he planned it? Did Adrien know everything? She crosses her arms. “What _else_ do you know?”

“There’s more?” he clarifies, perking up. She groans at the excitement in his eyes.

“I swear, I’m going to _kill you—_ ”

“Now, that’s no way to treat your crush, now is it?”

“ _Adrien_!” she shrieks, pouncing on him. Adrien laughs again as he falls to the ground. Marinette briefly notices their abandoned homework flutters on the coffee table, but she ignores it. There’s bigger problems at hand right now, namely a very smug, very self-satisfied Adrien Agreste.

She’s hitting him now, but it’s well deserved. Besides, she’s not even punching that hard. And he’s _still_ laughing. Oh, it’s _definitely_ well deserved.

Eventually she stops, and she ends up straddling him. When Marinette catches her breath from the burst of anger, she sees Adrien peering up at her, eyes brightened.

“So...did you take down the posters because you were embarrassed?”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Marinette says and gets off the boy. Adrien sits up, propping himself with his elbows, an overly self-satisfied smile etched on his face. “ _Yes,_ like I am now. Jeez, _stop it,_ you stupid cat, _stop_ smiling like that.”

For once, he listens to her. Marinette sighs heavily as she gets up, her face still a blushing mess, she’s sure. She sneaks a peek at his face, to try and read his expression. He’s turned from her but she can see the edge of his smug grin. Marinette gasps and grabs one of the couch pillow and before he’s sure what’s going on, she rushes forward to slam it in his face.

“Wha-what? Marinette!” he shouts, voice muffled behind the pillow. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, just—just stop hitting me with pillows!”

“No way!” Marinette argues, body warm. She hits him again. Adrien backs away, crawling on his legs. His back hits the living room wall and Marinette advances. “I told you to stop and you didn’t. Oh my _god_ , Adrien! You have no idea how _mortified_ I am!” She gives him a good shove with the pillow but before she can make another satisfying hit, Adrien grabs her wrist.

“Hey,” he says. Marinette struggles against his hold, gritting her teeth. “Hey,” he repeats, loosening his fingers when she calms down. “For what it's worth, I like you _a_ _lot_ , too,” he says, putting emphasis where it's needed, which doesn’t help her blush _at all._

“Oh god, stop.” Marinette releases the pillows and drops to her knees in front of him. She covers her face with her hands, Adrien’s hands still latched to her wrists. “You’re going to be the end of me.”

“I can say the same, so I think we’re even.” Marinette peeks behind her fingers and she can see that his eyes widen a bit and he flushes. _Good,_ she thinks victoriously, but she’s not happy over the fact that he returns her feelings; she’s more smug over the fact that she can affect him like this, too, because she has had enough embarrassment for one lifetime.

Adrien moves her arms away from her face by moving her wrists and she lets him and he continues to drag her down until their faces are close together. Marinette’s heart is pounding and she wondering distantly if the boy is always going to have this effect on her when Adrien kisses her again.

Her kitty is clever, Marinette notices. Because if he was going to kiss her every time she got mad at him, he would never really need to fear her ire.

Adrien lets go of her wrists and cups her face, lips incessantly attached to hers. She pushes against him, adjusting the angle of her neck until she’s fully pressed against Adrien's lips. His hands drift upwards until they’re in her hair, probably mussing it all up. She would need to scold him for that later.

Much later, definitely, because the way Adrien’s kissing her doesn’t help her remember a single thing. His hands roam down her back, but stops when they reach the small of her back. His fingers dance at her sides, giving her tiny tingles. Adrien’s fingers hook at her front belt loops, and suddenly, she’s on top of him.

She’s not sure when he made it back to the floor, considering they were just sitting up, but  all Marinette knows is that Adrien’s on the floor with her on top, her arm holding up as she pins him to the floor.

Marinette lifts her head to stare at Adrien because as nice as making out with him was, she wants to fully study him, without looking away when he turns his head. She brings her other hand to his cheek, tracing the side of it. Her heart soars when Marinette hears his breath hitch.

“Princess,” he says huskily and Marinette wonders how she ever missed that Chat was right in front of her. “I really like you, you know?”

She lowers her face. His breath is fanning her face making her eyelids droop. Her hands touches the ends of his collar. “Me, too,” Marinette murmurs, repeating his words, before pulling and rolling to her back, yanking Adrien on top of her. His face is a little shocked as he hovers over her, the light above him casting his hair in a pretty light. A pretty rose color blossoms on his cheeks and all air has left Marinette’s body.

Marinette tilts her head a little and leans up, all the while bringing her hands to his jawline. She can just barely feel his lips when she breathes a “you’re beautiful” before they’re kissing again.

His fingers are curled around her neck and his thumb rubs her cheeks, making her heart pound. It’s evident that he knows what kind of effect he has on her, especially by the way he’s smiling into the kiss. Part of her wants to scold him and tell him to stop being so _smug_ about this, because _seriously,_ but the other part of her is putty in his hands and she really can’t form a coherent thought.

When they part, Marinette stares into his eyes and there’s a look in his eyes but it isn’t Chat’s look, the one that always made her wish secret identities were never a thing between them.

This time, the look screams with love and she smiles at it, one that Adrien returns.

Adrien’s mouth parts, and she thinks he’s going to kiss her again and her eyelashes flutter, but then he speaks:

“So, are you going to put up those posters again, or...?”

Marinette grabs the pillow she had discarded on the side earlier and with full force, whacks him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Every time Chat gets disheartened when Ladybug "rejects" him, I laugh because Marinette has a _massive_ crush on Adrien Agreste.
> 
> come talk with me on[ tumblr](http://www.perseuesjackson.tumblr.com)!!


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